8 Hours
by my-beautiful-decay
Summary: Edward leaves and doesn't return - one shot of how Bella's life has turned out; he wanted her to move on and have a happy life, but we don't always get what we want - NM AU


Once the door has slammed shut she knows she is safe for another eight hours. Safe but never free. This is the time when she will slip into a dream-like state and float through the day; it is the only way she can exist.

The rain starts to fall from the sky around 1pm; rapping against the windows of the small house where she is hidden. It's a sort of self-imposed imprisonment. The bruises that mar her once perfect skin stop her from making the monthly trips she used to, but she sometimes thinks that it's better this way. Time was supposed to heal the wounds; but instead it just made them ache more. The journeys into town caused her more pain instead of less. The panic attacks only gaining in frequency not lessening. This made life at home even more unbearable.

He didn't appreciate the trips to the hospital to fetch her after she had to be sedated in the supermarket yet again. Instead of being thankful that she was OK; and rushing to her side to ensure she made it home and to bed he became more and more abusive.

The excuses for the marks became extensive and elaborate; so much so she simply stopped leaving the house. It was better this way she told herself. She didn't have to face the overwhelming memories that invaded her senses at the smallest thing. Driving past the school and remembering every moment of his presence, rescuing her from the horrid fate that awaited her under Tyler's van to carrying her from the miserable blood typing lecture; it all hit her at a ferocious speed rendering her incapacitated and often fighting for breath.

She remembered with depressing accuracy the day he left and promised it would be like he never existed; a promise that was broken the moment it left his lips; she lived a life he would have never wanted her to lead, but he was not there to ensure her safety. Driving into town meant passing the spot where she finally emerged from the forest in Sam's arms covered in rain and tears; this alone was enough to cause a full on break down. A break down meant a full day in hospital on meds to keep her calm, and then another day recovering at home from the beating she would surely receive from the man who was supposed to take care of her.

She often awoke and wondered if this day would be different; if it would finally take her down the right path. It only took a few moments for this dream to be broken. She thought she had tried to get better; after all she had gotten married. He wasn't her true love, but he seemed to love her enough in the beginning. Over time the cracks began to show; he would start to become agitated with her often shouting well into the night over the smallest thing; his coat wasn't places on the right hook, the cups were not placed in the correct cupboard – the list was endless. Then the hitting began.

The first time he raised a hand to her she had just spent another night in hospital fighting for air. She apologised over and over again for causing him pain, but pleaded that she couldn't help it, that she had tried her best; she had nearly made it but had broken at the last second, but he wouldn't hear any of it this time. This time he was convinced she had gone too far and in a bid to break her of the nasty habit of attention seeking this way he raised his hand and slapped her, hard, across the cheek. In shock she fell to her knees, tears staining her face, her body shaking and the strained words "please" briefly leaving her lips. Isn't that always the way it starts though, the small things here and there whilst building to something much worse? She knew this, yet she forgave him. She didn't see as she had a choice, after all wasn't she being just as bad being married and not really loving him? So she allowed the beatings to increase in intensity.

She cried herself to sleep more and more; horrified that this was the path life had chosen for her but also horrified that she was unable to find the strength now to pull herself out of the mess. Their marriage bed, she saw as a prison but in a bid to further humiliate her, he had created space in their cold basement in order to lock her away for 'recovery' after particularly heavy beatings. The mould ridden mattress became her bed far too often now since he didn't see her as a fit wife and so he would not allow her the use of their bedroom.

The first suicide attempt came after the second night spent locked in the basement. It was the last resort, the only way out. Half way through slicing her left wrist the door slid open; this could only mean one thing, he was checking to see she was behaving before drunkenly stumbling to bed. She tried to hide it, she did. She knew if he found her he would immediately call Dr Snow, and she would be once again be taken to hospital; where she knew she would receive minimal help. It never did seem that luck was on her side. He noticed the blood seeping through the thin sheets and removed the razor, forcefully, from her. She fought no more, just lay and accepted failure once again.

Recovery time after a suicide attempt; she knew; would always be longer than a simple panic attack. She had to prove that she wasn't going to try such a thing again. It was both a blessing and a curse. At least she didn't have to endure the pain of being beaten by her husband; she did, however, have to discuss her problems with the psychiatrist. Of course she knew where the root of the problem lay, she was just unable to turn things around, but she definitely couldn't talk about _him _with anyone, she was bound to honour his secret. The only thing she could do was remain quiet. Dr Snow knew a few of the details, but presumed that a high school break up could never cause such long term suffering, especially in a patient who had seemingly moved on and even married another. So for two days he prodded and probed and tried to ascertain the route of her issues; all with no success. Eventually they let her leave the hospital, back to her version of life.

To say he wasn't pleased with her was an understatement. He was incensed; driven with a horrid rage he dragged her into the self-contained prison of a basement and lashed her, hard, with his belt. The more she cried and screamed for him to stop, the more he rained down the blows upon her. He broke two of her ribs that night and caused her to be bedridden for three more days. Though the pain didn't allow much movement on the first day, she also did not dare evoke more of his ire and so she stayed deathly still for hours, you would have almost believed she had ceased to exist, barely even breathing. When he finally returned to the basement to leave food and water she had recovered sufficiently to be able to sit without assistance though she still didn't utter a sound.

After the first attempt, in fact, she stopped speaking altogether. She figured it was better to stay silent and simply accept her fate. She made him dinner, cleaned the house and tended to his needs; from the outside it would appear she was the perfect housewife, but it was only a matter of time before things became unbearable again.

The second attempt came soon after. The nightmares she had every night had begun to intensify, she could no longer be anywhere near her husband when this occurred for fear of how he would react to her screaming for another man in her sleep. It resulted in many attempts to stay awake; she thought if she didn't sleep she wouldn't be able to dream. This was of course all in vain, she would eventually succumb. One night it just became too much. It wasn't a nightmare that caused her to break though; but something more powerful.

They were making love; in their meadow. With the sun beating down upon them he removed her jacket; slowly caressing her neck and shoulders as he did so. Running his hands up her sides and along her T-Shirt. All of a sudden the small piece of fabric has been ripped from her and she stands half naked in front of him, his eyes alight in wonder. She knows he has never seen a woman before and she hopes she measures up to his expectations. She softly takes his hand from her collar bone and slides it gently lower, lower, and lower still until it rests comfortably over her naked breast. The soft sounds emanating from him driving her to be more forward than she would normally be. With her free hand she encourages him to lose his shirt and they gradually undress as the light fades behind the trees. His hands are everywhere all at once, they are panting and writhing against each other and it is beautiful. She feels so free, having him lose control like this having him lean his weight above her in this way. Feeling him skin to skin he is still cold but it is not uncomfortable. Quite the opposite in fact; she is burning up and he is quenching the fire. 'Don't stop' she whimpers as he slowly aligns himself with her; 'never' he replies. It's all a rush of sensation; suddenly it isn't just his hands that are all over her, it's everything. He moves so cautiously inside her and yet with so much passion. She wraps her legs around him and matches him thrust for thrust. Time is lost, and the only thing that remains is the heavy breathing; the sound of their bodies touching and pulling away time and time again and the rustle of the wind rushing through the grass surrounding them.

She closes her eyes as she feels herself getting closer to the edge and when she opens them again she sees only the dull ceiling of the basement, the meadow gone; surely lost to her forever and her gentle lover is nowhere in sight. A tear escapes as she fights to regain control; this is no time for anxiety to take over. Instead she allows herself one luxury; she closes her eyes once more and runs her hand down the length of her body imagining it to be his. Her right hand remains resting on her breasts while the left gradually sinks lower eventually laying on top of her underwear. A small sigh escapes her lips and she slips her hand beneath her pants and begins to rub. Her hips automatically respond gently tilting for added pressure. The words she has forbidden from even thinking softly escape her lips as she becomes lost to the sensation of her fingers entering her most sensitive place; 'Edward…' she cries; her back arches off the mattress. In this instant it's almost like she can feel his lips against hers; his fingers are the ones inside of her, making her writhe in sweet agony. As she throws her head back further fanning her hair out along the floor her hips lift further allowing her yet more frictions where she needs it most. All of a sudden her movements become erratic; she shakes from head to toe as the first waves of pleasure hit her and in that moment she can feel him everywhere; if only for a split second and she swears she hears a faint 'I love you' whispered in the darkness.

The pills are lined up in a neat row across the bathroom counter; she knows which ones to take first and she must act fast. Her body is still recovering from the intensity of her orgasm, but she knows the high won't last. Quickly she swallows the first few pills trying desperately not to gag on the acidic taste they leave in her mouth; but in her haste to take the last few pills she knocks the glass to floor causing it to shatter. The noise echoes in her ears long after the actual noise has ceased and in these moments she knows she hasn't taken a breath. She knows what happens next. Her husband will have undoubtedly heard the monstrous sound and will rush from his bed to find her surrounded by empty containers. It will only take him a moment to figure out what she has done and call the emergency services. The tears flow freely now; she makes no attempt to hide them as he slams the door open and rests his eyes upon her.

Dr Snow tells her how lucky she is; she doesn't feel it. He explains how close she was to death; she wishes she had succeeded so badly and she knows how unlikely it is she will get another attempt. The numbness sets in quickly; it's the only way to survive from now on.

The next few weeks are a blur; she refuses to utter one single word. The doctors nearly have her committed; it is only her husband that stops this from happening and once again Dr Snow uses the word 'lucky'. If she didn't have such an adoring husband she could have ended up locked away; instead she gets to go home and live as normal life as is possible in her situation. Though none of them are actually sure what her situation is; if only they had bothered to invest enough time and energy to find out.

So she exists; it is this simple. He leaves her for work and in those eight hours she allows herself to cry; curled up in a ball in the lounge. The television is switched on for background noise and to remind her to breathe but it is never acknowledged further than this.

The crunch of the gravel signifies his return home and her only thought in this moment is the hope that he doesn't want sex tonight; yet another human need that makes her feel physically ill. His hands are too warm; his touch is too rough. He just doesn't think about her at all.

Tonight is different though. The gravel still crunch outside at the correct time, but the sound is deeper; almost like someone heavier is walking up their path. If she hadn't phased this out a long time ago maybe she would notice; but she doesn't. She simply tucks her head against the small pillow under her head and pleads for an easy night. The door opens slowly and she can hear the footsteps slowly approaching the living area where she is situated. As always she fails to look up hoping that he will simply walk away after making sure she is still contained within the house. However, the steps get closer and she holds her breath wondering what tonight will bring.

A sharp intake a breath echoes around the small sitting room followed by the word 'baby…' she squeezes her eyes closed. How dare her mind allow this after so long! Annoyed that she is hearing _his_ voice again she covers her ears and pulls her knees closer to her chest and whispers 'shhh' hoping to quell the voice that haunts her still. The floorboards creak behind her and she is sure it won't end pleasantly this evening, but instead of the rough hands of her husband grabbing her; she feels a gentle coldness settle upon her wrist. She still refuses to believe she hasn't lost her mind. Again tears spring to her eyes falling slowly down her cheeks. Her breathing becomes erratic and she is pulled from the sofa into _his_ strong arms; she still refuses to believe this isn't another cruel dream.

The only sounds that are now heard in the house are the quiet sobs falling from her lips as he carries her to the waiting car; she still hasn't removed her hands from her ears and her eyes still remain squeezed tightly shut even as she feels the wind whip through her unwashed hair.

'She'll be OK; I promise' A soft voice confirms; a voice which she knows logically can only belong to Alice, but she still refuses to accept.

Instead of trying to get her to open her eyes; he simply rubs soothing circles down her back with one hand whilst cradling her to his chest. Alice has shown him this is the best way to calm her enough to accept this is a reality. Slowly but surely her heartbeat slows to a normal rate and her hands relax so they are gently gripping his shirt; rather than gripping her ears and her head nestles into his neck. For a small moment she allows herself to breathe him in. Her eyes flutter open for a brief moment allowing her to truly take in her situation. 'It can't be' she tells herself; 'he said he didn't want me; why would he come back now after all this time' but she cannot bring herself to think that this is a dream either; there is just something different. She unfurls a hand from his shirt and runs it along his jaw; he knows she is testing the waters in this moment; making sure he is in front of her. It kills him that he has created this doubt within her; but he knows he has to invest time in order to make her believe in him once again.

'I'm so sorry' he whispers in her ear. She breaks. Her whole body starts to shake uncontrollably and the tears spring from her eyes with more fervour this time; cascading down her face soaking the front of his shirt. The only thing he can do now is rock her back and forth hoping to quell the tears but knowing that she needs this release.

She cries without stopping for the entire journey back to the small cottage they have rented on the outskirts of the tiny town. No more words are uttered until they are safely tucked away. He takes her upstairs will the intention of putting her to sleep while he makes her something to eat; but she refuses to let him go. He understands her reluctance for him to be out of the room after all he feels the same way; but she has reason to believe he isn't real still and so he asks Alice to pop out to find something which gives them some time alone also.

It will take a long time for the wounds to heal; for Bella to learn again what it is to be loved but time is something Edward has an abundance of; he won't make the same mistake twice.


End file.
